


glazed eyes / empty hearts

by summerplaylist



Category: The Legend of Zelda: Skyward Sword
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Explicit Language, M/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-04
Updated: 2016-09-04
Packaged: 2018-08-12 22:04:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7950883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/summerplaylist/pseuds/summerplaylist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>The next time we meet, it will be as enemies. Do you understand?</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	glazed eyes / empty hearts

“I'm sorry I couldn't save you,” Link said. He took a deep breath, touching the blade of the Master Sword onto the curve of Ghirahim's neck.

Ghirahim laughed, even though it made Link's grip slacken and the sword cut into his skin a little bit more. Looking up into Link's blue eyes like this, having Link straddling his hips like this—even if it was in a deadly circumstance—was more than he could have ever hoped for. 

“If things had gone differently,” Ghirahim said, laughter dying along with the words. “Would things still be ending this way?”

/

The moment Link bonded with his Loftwing, his soul mark appeared. Unusual. As if the goddess hadn't already been against him. You know, considering he didn't have any parents and couldn't talk in any social setting without feeling threads of anxiety unravel in his stomach. So it was just icing on the cake when the goddess decided to make him even more of an oddity by doing something like this.

The letters of his soul mark were large and he watched, mesmerized, as they began to spill down the skin of his left arm in gaudy and complex handwriting. The letters looked more like something Link would find in the archives of the Knight Academy than in the average school kid's notebook.

“Ghirahim,” Zelda said later than night, wrinkling her nose. The name sounded all wrong in her mouth. Link didn't even know what sort of person his soulmate was, but he already felt protective. Like his soulmate was somebody who needed defending, and if he wouldn't do it, who else will?

“It definitely can't be anybody in Skyloft,” Zelda continued. “Nobody here has that name, especially one so unusual.”

Link wrenched his arm out of her judgmental hands, pulling down his shirtsleeve. He didn't wear short sleeves again for nearly five years. Because whenever anybody noticed his soul mark, they had questions. The most of which Link just didn't want to hear.

/

Zelda's own soul mark had appeared when she was ten. It was a little sliver of red, no bigger than a needle, on the side of her left wrist. Gaepora became convinced the mark meant Link was her soulmate, even though a sliver of red had little to do with him.

Sometimes, Link wished he could be Zelda's soulmate. It would have been so much easier. Instead he had a foreign name marking his skin and a thousand questions burning his tongue.

/

Years passed. Things changed. And Link discovered he was the chosen hero of the goddess, which apparently meant there was an entire world beneath his feet that he never knew about. But with Zelda to save and his small world expanding so suddenly, soulmates became the farthest thing from his mind.

But then _it_ happened. The meeting. The pivotal moment that was supposed to change everything in a person's life. Usually for the better, sometimes for the worse. But it always changed _something._

Skyview Temple had been tricky. And Link was so tired and so ready to have Zelda home that by the end of it, he barely acknowledged the man standing in the center of the final room.

But that man had other ideas. Acknowledgment was one of his requirements.

He tossed a small knife directly into Link's path. It hit the wall, wobbling a little from the abrupt stop. If Link hadn't jumped back so soon—and without Fi's chime of warning—he would have surely been dead.

“I am Demon Lord Ghirahim,” the man said, giving Link a spike of fear to play with the adrenaline rush from having his life flash before his eyes. “I demand to be spoken to, especially by the chosen hero of the goddess.”

Link braced himself before looking at Ghirahim. Before really looking at him. Link watched, disgusted, as Ghirahim flipped his white hair back and smirked. Apparently seeing Link this way—so frightened and out of sorts—was giving him some sort of pleasure.

“What the actual fuck,” Link said, which were coincidentally the first words he'd said in nearly two years. Even Zelda couldn't get the words out of him anymore. His voice was grainy and clearly disused, and a glimmer of surprise crossed Ghirahim's features.

The words hung in the air, and if Link couldn't gain control of his racing heart, he'd be dead anyway. And not from one of Ghirahim's knives.

Ghirahim began to laugh, clapping his hands slowly. “How remarkable, sky child! What a wondrous way to begin our friendship.”

Link drew his sword—which should have been drawn anyway, now that he thought about it—his hands shaking from nerves. What ensued what a remarkably easy sword fight. Link was very distracted, which Ghirahim obviously noticed. After a few minutes of weak hits and lazy defense, Ghirahim said some cutting words and disappeared to wherever it was evil demons who were also soulmates disappeared of to when they were bored.

Minutes continued to pass in the empty room, but the memory of Ghirahim was fresh. Link tried to push it out of his mind. _Really,_ really tried. But it didn't work.

Zelda should have been more important, right? All of his thoughts should be centered around her, not Ghirahim. And she was his best friend, after all, and she'd never thrown a knife at him or engaged in a sword fight.

And he was her soulmate, wasn't he?

Even if she wasn't his.

/

Back in Skyloft, it was easier to let Ghirahim disappear from his mind. Especially when days passed and Fi never made any mention of him.

Until she did, of course.

Link was packing some water for the trip to Eldin's Volcano (it was very hot, Fi warned, time and time again), when he rolled up his sleeves of his tunic like the idiot he was. For some reason, Fi didn't feel very real half the time. Most of his natural defenses dulled around her, which probably wasn't a good thing.

“Ghirahim,” Fi read in her simple, matter-of-fact tone. “Demon Lord Ghirahim, if one wishes to address him by his preferred title. The goddess blessed her people with a soul mark, one that is used to identify a person's soulmate. Is this your own?”

Link rushed to pull down his sleeve, cheeks burning. It didn't feel like the usual shame—more like embarrassment. He didn't answer her, as usual, but Fi continued to speak (as usual).

“There is a fifty percent chance that the name on your skin is a soul mark or a cosmetic tattoo. However, considering the fact Demon Lord Ghirahim is our common enemy, it is doubtful you would have his name on your arm willingly.”

Link began packing with gusto. Whatever he was throwing into his bag, he had no idea. But his silence was more than enough for an admission. It was obvious who his soulmate was now, and it was absolutely embarrassing. His soulmate was an enemy. A demon, no less.

Fi settled down beside him, her presence unnaturally cold. But it was also soothing in a strange way. She had been created to be his guide, after all. Surely the goddess knew what she was doing when she created Fi.

“Soul marks are nothing to be ashamed of,” she said after a minute or so, forever startling him with the abruptness of her monotone voice. “It is something that is entirely out of a person's control. Please don't be upset about it.”

The bag was packed and Link slung it over his shoulder. He shook his head, dismissing Fi's attempt at human kindness. He'd heard enough about soulmates for a lifetime.

And he was just _tired._

/

“Oh, it's no coincidence, is it?” Ghirahim asked. And Link felt something within himself—a stirring of something needful and wanting pour through his veins. “You and I, we're bound by a thread of fate.”

/

Faron Woods was just saved from that ridiculous flood, and Link was tired. More than tired—he was annoyed. Annoyed that Zelda locked herself up in some self-made prison. Annoyed that everyone was continuing to doubt him, even Fi.

And annoyed that Ghirahim had been nowhere to be seen for ages now. Not that Link wanted to see him. That would be absolutely ridiculous.

But then Ghirahim _was_ there. Like the sky opened up and deposited Ghirahim directly in front of him just to provide some sick form of torment. Which it sort of did.

Link drew his sword, by instinct, but Ghirahim promptly ripped it out of his hand and made it disappear into the very air itself.

The ground was soft and sucked at the soles of Link's boots as he took a few involuntary steps back. Everything was very bright—a clear and beautiful day—but now he was underneath the branches of that stupid, gigantic tree and it seemed very dark. They were in shadows.

And alone.

And Link was _afraid._

Ghirahim backed Link until he bumped into the bark of the tree. It was very rough, digging into his back, and Link wished he hadn't ever wished for Ghirahim to be there at all.

“I'm not going to hurt you, sky child,” Ghirahim said, brushing his hand over Link's cheek. “Relax. Killing you like this would be dishonorable.”

Link knew better than to believe him just like that. Especially with his sword missing and with this being such a compromising situation. But maybe because Ghirahim was his soulmate, or maybe because of something more, Link relaxed just enough to allow Ghirahim to kiss his cheek.

His lips were surprisingly soft—like a butterfly's wings brushing up against his skin.

“I've wanted to kiss you for so long,” Ghirahim muttered. His hands wormed their way under Link's tunic sleeves, rolling them up. And Link tried to fight against the intrusion—he really did—but it was to no avail.

Link held his breath as Ghirahim let out a short laugh.

“I thought so,” he said. “My name is on your sword arm, no less? Is the goddess truly that cruel?”

Ghirahim moved in again, his lips grazing Link's own, his fingers tracing the letters of the name that would forever mark Link's skin. The kiss was all fire. Link's knees went weak and every touch made his very insides ache and quiver with excitement.

But then it was all over. Ghirahim's touch withdrew. “I wish things were different,” he said. “I wish I was different. But I'm not, and it's not very easy for an established Demon Lord like me to change!”

Link pulled down his sleeves, feeling Ghirahim's lingering touch skitter across his skin like fleas. “You can always change,” he whispered. “Why not start now?”

Ghirahim looked tragic. He pulled at the ends of his hair. “Why is it that when you _do_ speak, it's always something that makes me feel so unsettled?”

There was no good answer. And it didn't matter, because Ghirahim began kissing Link all over again, his lips marking every square inch of Link's cheeks and jawline. His lips moved down to his neck, and Link felt so heated, so _wanting,_ that he could have screamed.

Ghirahim began bitting all over his skin, giving him soul marks that were his very own. Possessive, Link thought. And so, so _good._

Link lost himself to the thrill of it. But all too soon, it was over, Ghirahim pulling himself away. He looked more disheveled than usual, a lock of his hair out of place and falling down over his eyes. He touched Link's bitten and abused skin with a featherlight touch. “The next time we meet, it will be as enemies,” he said. “Do you understand?”

Link nodded, even though he wasn't so sure. Ghirahim produced the Master Sword. He handed it off to Link, Fi jabbering on hysterically. If she was a human, she would have surely been crying.

But she wasn't. Just hysterical.

Somehow, that wasn't enough.

Ghirahim snapped his fingers, and he was gone. Leaving Link with a lot of explaining to do. Most of which he didn't think he would ever care to vocalize to anyone, let alone to someone like Fi.

/

_The next time we meet, it will be as enemies. Do you understand?_

Link didn't. Not really. But now Ghirahim was performing some strange ritual around Zelda's lifeless body, trying to revive Demise. And even though Link couldn't understand the need to still be enemies, he was beginning to understand why Ghirahim didn't listen when Link said he could change.

It's nearly impossible to change who you are, isn't it?

The battlefield stretched, Ghirahim throwing all sorts of enemies Link's way. They held him back, making Link feel reasonably panicked. The marks Ghirahim left him still stained his neck—the memory of them kissing was still so strong. And if Zelda died, it would all be his fault. 

All of this would have been pointless in the end.

Fi was calm, as always, guiding Link past Bokoblins and around the strange orange barriers Ghirahim created with his magic. Eventually, Link was standing right in front of the man in question, breathing a little too heavy and with his feelings a little too apparent by the tears staining his cheeks.

Ghirahim hesitated only a moment. But that moment was enough. He took Link's arm, roughly dragging him forward and onto an orange platform created by the same magic used to create the barriers. It began its slow descent into the sky and Ghirahim's skin began to shatter, revealing tempered steel as black as the night, as deadly smooth as the sharpest blade.

_The next time we meet, it will be as enemies._

Link drew his sword, even though everything within himself screamed at him not to. It didn't feel right. It would _never feel right._

Ghirahim laughed wickedly, almost begging Link to strike.

_The next time we meet, it will be as enemies._

_Do you understand?_

/

Just when Link thought he would have to do it, end the life of the soulmate he had never wanted—Demise appeared. Ghirahim laughed as he molded into a blade and fit snugly into Demise's open palm.

Demise didn't waste a moment, looking up at Zelda's body hovering in the air and sending her plummeting down to the earth below. Something within Link shattered, grew sharp and cruel and he kept his eyes wide open even though he didn't want to see what was about to happen.

But just as Zelda was about to hit the ground, Groose saved the day, running and catching her body in his arms.

Suddenly, Zelda's soul mark made more sense. It was the same color as Groose's hair, wasn't it?

Demise said more things. Things that were probably important. But they were all buzzing through Link's head, hazy and unsubstantial. The world felt like it crashing down, like it was finally ending once and for all.

“I shall prepare a place for us where we will not be bothered by distractions,” Demise said, voice gravelly and powerful. “If you still have the courage to face me, seek me there.”

Demise disappeared, along with Ghirahim, leaving Link shaky and out-of-sorts.

Groose and Zelda, however shaken, urged him on. They were so sure of him. They were once doubtful—or at least, Link thought they were—but now they were so sure that he almost crumpled to the ground with the sheer weight of it all.

“I know Ghirahim is your soulmate,” Fi announced, making Zelda cover her face with her hands and Groose's eyes to widen in disbelief. “But maybe it's not too late for him to be saved.”

Link looked at Fi. At her smooth blue skin and her empty eyes. “It's too late,” he said, making Zelda cry out. She hadn't heard him speak in so long—she probably thought he would never say anything ever again. “Ghirahim made his choice. And it wasn't to be with me.”

“Does Ghirahim have a soul mark?” Groose asked.

Zelda shook her head. “Only the goddess's people have soul marks. Demons don't.”

“I always thought people couldn't have different soulmates. It doesn't seem fair.” Groose pulled up his sleeve, looking at the simple drawing of a harp marking his wrist.

“It is our choices that define us,” Fi said. “Sometimes, it is best not to follow the easiest path. You should forge your own.”

/

Demise was destroyed. The sword encasing Ghirahim ripped apart and he couldn't help but just lie there, praying to the goddess for a different ending. Something different than the ending he had been given, something other than the one he had created for himself.

Maybe Ghirahim should have listened. Maybe he should have been different.

Maybe.

“I'm sorry I couldn't save you,” Link said. He took a deep breath, touching the blade of the Master Sword onto the curve of Ghirahim's neck.

Ghirahim laughed, even though it made Link's grip slacken and the sword cut into his skin a little bit more. Looking up into Link's blue eyes like this, having Link straddling his hips like this—even if it was in a deadly circumstance—was more than he could have ever hoped for. 

“If things had gone differently,” Ghirahim said, laughter dying along with the words. “Would things still be ending this way?”

Link shook his head, mumbling something about not being sure.

Ghirahim felt his heart skitter and jump, but Link never pressed the sword hard enough to kill. He eventually pulled it away, letting it clatter to the ground beside them.

The minutes passed and nothing was said or done. But then, shockingly, surprisingly—Link leaned down, kissing Ghirahim on the mouth. The blood trickling from the cuts on Ghirahim's neck was going to stain Link's tunic, but he didn't seem to care.

The kiss ended, but Link was still lying there, weighing down Ghirahim's new and weakened body in not an entirely unpleasant way. Without his master alive, he was more like a human than anything else.

Fi chimed, but Link ignored her.

“I'm dangerous,” Ghirahim said, forever feeling the need to state the obvious. “I'm evil. I tried to kill both you and Zelda on multiple occasions. Are you sparing me because of that soul mark? If you are, that's _fucking_ ridiculous and I take offense to that.”

Link laughed, the sound bubbling up and out of him. And even though Ghirahim should still be offended—he _was_ offended—the feeling just wasn't as strong as it should have been. And when Link began to cry amidst his own laughter, Ghirahim wrapped his arms around the poor boy and held him closer.

It wasn't much. But it was a beginning.

And that was more than Ghirahim could have ever hoped for.

**Author's Note:**

> It feels great to be writing Ghiralink again. As always, feedback is greatly appreciated!


End file.
